It already has more than two hundred thousand likes.

I keep scrolling through all the major K-pop fan and gossip Instagrammers that I follow, and it’s everywhere. Whatever Yujin did to leak it, it worked.

And people are freaking out.

I scroll through the comments, not daring to breathe.

Is that Jason Lee’s yeochin?

Her voice is amazing. They sound so good together!

#FullMoonLoverReveal?

OMG this song, I’m crying!

Where can I download this??? I need it for my ringtone!

My phone is buzzing nonstop with texts from the Cho twins and Akari (HOLY SHIT, Oh my god! Yujin is our hero!). My Instagram DM pings, and I see a message from Coach Sloat (Congrats, Rachel! Let me know if you and Jason ever want a private tennis lesson!). There’s a pounding at my door, and Leah cries, “Unni! Open the door right now! Is this really you?” But I can’t focus on any of it.

I lie back in my bed and hold my phone against my chest, a huge smile spreading across my face. Any feeling of guilt I had earlier washes away as I watch the likes rack up and I let out a giddy scream.

I did it. I freaking did it!

I’m one step closer to my second chance.

And I’m not going to let it pass me by.

Eight

Twelve pairs of eyes are locked on me, watching my every move. I straighten out my blazer and smooth out a little wrinkle at the top of my black skinny jeans. Today’s look is chic and professional—the model of a picture-perfect K-pop trainee—because that’s exactly how I need the DB execs to see me.

Mr. Noh sits at the head of the long rectangular boardroom table, his face gleaming in the table’s shiny mahogany surface, his fingers steepled together beneath his chin. Yujin and I stand at the opposite end, posture perfect. Just a couple days ago, she was my co-conspirator. Today, it feels like she’s my lawyer.

“The video that was leaked has gone viral,” Yujin explains. “People love hearing Jason and Rachel sing together. It’s the number one most-played video of the week on Instagram and already has over three million hits. There’s buzz around them. If Rachel does a duet with Jason, the buzz will only grow. We’re guaranteed success.”

“Hold on a second.” An exec by the name of Mr. Lim holds up a hand. He’s even older and more critical than Mr. Noh, with wiry glasses perched on the edge of his crooked nose. “Are you suggesting we give Rachel another chance after she vomited on our star? Ms. Chung, with all due respect, I think you’re letting your personal feelings for the girl get in the way of your better judgment.”

I maintain a straight face, reminding myself to let Yujin do the talking, just like we discussed.

“Jason has clearly moved past it,” Yujin says, gesturing to her phone. “Perhaps it’s time that we did too.”

“Time?” an exec named Ms. Shim says incredulously, the veins bulging out of her impossibly thin neck, her mouth twisted into what I assume is a permanent scowl. “It’s only been a couple of weeks. It’ll take a lot longer than that for Rachel to earn back our trust, if that’s even possible. That was the worst audition I’ve ever seen in all my years at DB.”

Several of the other execs murmur in agreement. I clench my fists by my sides but stay silent. As much as I hate being talked about like I’m not even in the room, speaking without being spoken to is not an option for any K-pop trainee. Not even a viral one.

Mr. Noh holds up a hand and everyone falls silent.

“I think that’s enough for today. It’s clear the majority of you think that Rachel is… not ready,” he says. He sounds almost disappointed. “Does anyone have any closing remarks?”

My body temperature skyrockets. What? No! I can’t let it end this way. Not when I’m so close. I can feel myself about to explode when Yujin touches my elbow gently. She gives me an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Don’t make it worse, she’s saying. You’re already on thin ice. My heart sinks. She’s right. Better to still be in the program and not be singing the duet than to get kicked out altogether. The plan has failed.

I swallow everything—my tears, my pride, the last shred of my hope. I turn to follow Yujin out of the room when someone stands up abruptly.

“Wait!” he says. We both turn around to see one of the execs—a younger man with a boyish face and freshly styled hair—holding up his phone. “I don’t think we can close this conversation without seeing the video in question. Mr. Noh, permission to connect my phone to the projector?”

Mr. Noh pauses and then gives one terse nod. “Go ahead, Mr. Han.”

Mr. Han glances over at me and gives me a small wink. What? Is he really trying to help me? A spark of hope reignites in my chest.

He streams the video on his phone and casts it onto the projector, and suddenly sounds of Jason singing fill up the boardroom. Some of the execs’ faces soften in recognition at the familiar chords of the Chung Yuna classic. To my left, Ms. Shim sighs happily, a faraway smile on her face, her hands clasped to her chest, as Jason continues to sing on the camera. Is there anyone in the world who doesn’t have a soft spot for this boy?

I hold my breath, waiting for my part. When I hear my own voice play back at me, I sneak a glance at Mr. Noh. His eyes are hidden behind his glasses, and as always, he’s tapping his fingers in time to the music. All the execs are. Some of them even start smiling and singing along. By the final chorus, I see Ms. Shim dab at her eyes. I crack a smile of my own. Tears! Always a good sign.

The song ends and the video fades to black. Everyone claps and Mr. Han whistles. The hope in me is growing, but I don’t dare breathe comfortably yet. Was it enough?

“I have to admit, that was quite lovely,” Ms. Shim says, almost begrudgingly.

“And people love them together,” Mr. Han says, scrolling through his feed. “Social media is quite literally exploding over this performance.”

“That may be true,” Mr. Lim says gruffly. “But it was never Rachel’s talent that was in question. We all know the girl can sing. But can she be professional? We’ve all seen the media training reports. Can she perform in front of the cameras? Is she devoted to upholding the image of the DB family? That’s a completely different matter.”

“That’s true,” Ms. Shim says. “We need her image to be spotless if she’s going to accompany Jason. And that display of hers at the audition was not exactly spotless.”

“But why does it have to be spotless?” Mr. Han challenges. “We know their duet will be a big hit—we’ve already got the numbers to prove it. It’s a strategic business move. Not to mention, the audience these days is more interested in seeing authenticity over spotlessness. Like this video—they want to see real, relatable people exhibit raw talent and discipline. And Rachel has that. Plus, you only need to watch her sing to see she’s clearly gotten over her camera shyness.”

My face burns at this last comment, but I don’t dare open my mouth.

Truthfully, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. All K-pop executives, but especially DB, are known for being incredibly strict and set in their ways, accepting nothing less than a performer who will put the needs and wants of DB before anything else. Tradition over innovation. Rote perfection over authenticity. That is the K-pop way. But Mr. Han sounds like he sees things differently. I don’t really know what to make of it, but I find myself nodding along to everything he’s saying.